Thursday, June 27, 2013

A few weeks ago I was asked by the big wigs at work to attend a seminar. I agreed, because I jump at any chance to expand my legal horizons and also, that's something you can't really say no to.

The seminar was last Tuesday, but since it was a few hours away I drove up the night before. As soon as I got onto the turnpike, it started to POUR.

I am a girl who has a song for every occasion. In fact I'm fairly certain that my musical matching expertise is one of Matt's favorite traits about me. For example, we spent the day in the city on Saturday and I had SONGS APLENTY to narrate our activities, including but not limited to Downtown by Petula Clark.

And if the perfect song doesn't already exist, I can make one up on the spot. This past October when Superstorm Sandy hit the Jersey beaches, I did a complete overhaul of Cascada's Evacuate the Dance Floor to Evacuate the Seashore, complete with circumstantially appropriate verses and a catchy refrain.

When the storm began on my drive last week, I started to talk out loud to myself in an attempt to calm down. I can't remember ever feeling so scared while driving. I actually said to myself, "Laura, you might get into an accident today. Just concentrate and do your best to stay calm despite this potentially catastrophic situation."

Surprisingly that was not very comforting.

And so, instead of composing dramatic speeches to prepare myself for a potential collision, I started an a cappella version of, "Jesus Take the Wheel."

And continued it until I arrived in the hotel parking lot two VERY LONG, STRESSFUL hours later.

After I checked in to my room I headed over to Subway for a gourmet meal because, EXPENSE DOLLARS AT WORK. And then I sat in the hotel bed while I watched the Bachelorette and worked on my personal budget spreadsheet because my life is very exciting.

The seminar started bright and early Tuesday morning. It was meant for lawyers, which means that the attendees had big brains and even bigger egos.

Needles to say, I fit right in.

We listened to a few lectures and then it was time for case studies and small group discussion. Our first case study was about the Sampson family. The case study began with fictional family members Homer, Lisa, Marge, and Bart. I tried hard to concentrate on the legal theory that I knew was hiding in there somewhere and not the questionable character names, but when the next paragraph mentioned individuals by the names of Maude and Rod, I began to have serious concerns about the judgment of the lawyer who made up this scenario.

After we were finished reading individually, I MADE THE HUGE MISTAKE OF OPENING MY BIG MOUTH and exclaiming to my table mates, "Wow, those were some awful names!!"

And then Mr. Attorney Seated To My Left, Esquire said, "Didn't you ever watch The Simpsons?"

IT WAS A PLAY ON THE SIMPSONS CHARACTERS.

AND IT WENT RIGHT OVER MY HEAD.

Clearly, the answer to his question was NO SIR, I DID NOT.

And the appropriate song for that moment was "If I Could Turn Back Time."

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Several months ago, I had a brilliant revelation in the housekeeping department. That revelation was that I could fill a small spray bottle with cleaning product, and keep it in my bathroom cabinet. My thought was that perhaps if the cleaner was actually in the room, those quick bathroom counter wipedowns would happen on a more regular basis.

It is important to keep in mind that I live in a tiny little apartment with four rooms and an itsy bitsy hall closet. The farthest I'd have to walk for a full sized bottle of cleaner is approximately twelve feet. Still, I prefer to categorize this revelation as one of efficiency as opposed to laziness.

I had a bottle of orchid scented body spray in my medicine cabinet that was almost empty, so I dumped out the last few drops and filled it up with bathroom cleaner.

When I was growing up, I remember my parents telling me never to put liquid in an unidentified container, or an already labeled container. A mix up could be catastrophic. And when I filled up my body spray bottle with bathroom cleaner, I remembered their advice.

And I poured away.

And over the course of the next several months I proceeded to use that brilliantly convenient, accessible container of bathroom cleaner exactly zero times.

This morning while I was getting ready for work, I slid open my medicine cabinet. I am going away for the weekend and had already packed my perfume, so I grabbed that bottle of orchid scented spray and VERY LIBERALLY spritzed myself.

About ten seconds later I smelled it.

I had spritzed my entire being in bathroom cleaner.

Because I have a truly endearing habit of leaving no spare time in the mornings, I didn't have time to rinse it all off. In a desperate attempt to do some damage control, I wiped off what I could with the sleeve of the robe that was hanging on the back of the door and sped off to work.

And then I spent the entire day sitting in my cubicle smelling like a member of the janitorial staff.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

It's car related and I've thought long and hard about a way to tell this story without providing extensive backgound and detail, but that appears to be an impossibility. So buckle up.

(See what I did there?)

(Buckle up?)

I have to go to a work meeting tomorrow that's about two hours away. In addition to a Dunkin' Donuts hot chocolate coolatta and the Kenny Chesney pandora station, the trip will require a full tank of gas.

Before I go any further, let me say that I enjoy driving, and consider myself to be confident behind the wheel. But, I HATE gas stations.

I also get anxious in crowded parking lots, and on four lane roads where fellow motorists have the habit of changing lanes without engaging a turn signal to notify others of their navigational intentions. And I avoid making left turns at intersections without left turn arrows because the directive of LEFT TURN, YIELD ON GREEN is not my favorite. I also hate ALERT: HEAVY MERGE AREA signs and intersections with only blinking yellow traffic lights.

And now that I type that all out, it occurs to me that perhaps I should find a professional to speak to about my car related issues, because OH, THEY ARE APLENTY.

As my dad likes to say, "Freud would have a field day!"

Back to gas stations. They are my kryptonite. I don't care for all the cars driving in different directions, and to find a pump that meets the qualifications of being open, self-serve, and for non-cardmembers can sometimes be a little like seeing a mirage in the desert.

Or Brad Pitt with a decent haircut.

And so, due to my aforementioned high standards, I have identified ONE pump at one gas station that I approve of, and since I made the discovery it's the only pump I ever use. It's easy to pull beside, no reversing is necessary, I can pay right at the pump, and drive straight out the driveway.

If I arrive at the station and someone is at my pump, I assume that the sign reserving it for me has blown off and then drive around the block until they are gone.

My gas station is a few blocks from my office, but unfortunately I couldn't go on my way home from work tonight because I had an appointment to pick up a bridesmaid dress at 4:30 just down the street from my apartment. And now I'm just overexplaining.

After my appointment I knew it was time to face the music, or the ethanol, as it were, and I didn't want to drive all the way back to my station.

Instead I drove to a nearby Sunoco which had OPEN PUMPS APLENTY, so I pulled right in, swiped my card, and got the gas pump situated.

And then I decided that while I waited, I would wash my windows, because, go big or go home.

I had finished the front windshield and was walking around to the back when an older gentleman in a big Chevy Silverado pulled in behind me and began to WAIT for my spot. The driver smiled at me and I smiled back and finished my windshield washing like the professional gas station patron that I am.

I hadn't heard the pump click when I finished the windshield, so I figured I might as well start washing my headlights.

I began to sense my Silverado friend getting frustrated, mainly because I could see him looking around for other open spots, so I walked around to the pump to check things out.

Which is when I discovered that I HADN'T TURNED IT ON.

THAT WHOLE TIME THE NOZZLE WAS SITTING IN MY CAR, IT WAS NOT PUMPING GAS.

I was mortified. And so I did when any sophisticated lady would do in that situation and put the pump away, hopped in my car, and peeled out of there on two wheels.

And then I parked in the Macy's parking lot across the street until the coast was clear and I could try again.

I'm sure Mr. Silverado did a double take when he saw that the screen said GALLONS: 0 PRICE: $0.00 after I pulled away.

The good news is that my second try was a success and I am all set for my trip tomorrow.